Title: Alouette
Rating: M
Mood: romantic, erotic, a little sad, maybe
Words: ~7800
Author: sleepyowlet
Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare, and I'm not making any profit.
Summary: Loghain goes on a diplomatic mission to Orlais with Maric. Stuff happens.
Babblerama: So this is, in the end, why Loghain is so chipper in Awakening! :P
The link to a portrait (painted by yours truly) of Alouette is in my profile. Please go and pay her a visit :D
.
.
.
Alouette – Epilogue: In which the hero returns to his lark.
J'ai traversé les plaines et les montagnes,
J'ai entendu le rossignol chanter,
Qui disait dans son charmant language,
Les amoureux sont toujours malheureux.
Allez y donc, ma charmante est mignonne,
Allez y donc, d'amour nous parlerons.
Allez y donc, ma charmante est mignonne,
Allez y donc, d'amour nous parlerons.
(Die Streuner, "Allez Y Donc")
.
(I crossed the plains and mountains,
I heard the nightingale sing
Who said in its charming language,
Lovers are always unhappy.
Go ahead then, my charming one is lovely
Go ahead then, we will speak of love.
Go ahead then, my charming one is lovely
Go ahead then, we will speak of love.
Translation by google and me -.-)
Avenger lazily ambled along the sunny road towards the next stop on their long journey. They had made good time, and the next inn was just an hour away. He was bound for Orlais, a country he had never thought to set foot in again. Yet here he was.
The Fereldan Warden Commander, Angus Cousland, had been quite confused as to why he was in such a good mood at the prospect of going to the country he hated. They had become friends in the last months, somewhere between killing the Archdemon and mopping up left-over Darkspawn near Denerim and in the south. So when he had breezed into the room and happily informed his (former) commander that he was going to Montsimmard, the man had been quite alarmed; had even offered to write to the First Warden asking him to change his mind.
Loghain had told him not to bother. The answer to this conundrum was a second letter he had received, a letter that he had told no one about. Smiling to himself, he reached into his gauntlet and pulled it out, the fine vellum dog-eared and creased, showing that he had read it many times already.
"My dear Watchdog,"
He had let out a bark of laughter when he had read this particular salutation. The irony had not escaped him.
"I hope this letter finds you well, and that you will forgive my rather high-handed meddling. By now you should have gotten your orders to go to Montsimmard and join the Grey Wardens there. I fear for your safety in Ferelden, there are too many who wish to see you dead. You will be better off in Orlais, under my protection. I know that this rankles you, since you are more accustomed to protecting than being protected, but please indulge me in this. I do not wish to see you come to harm."
He should have known that it had been her machinations that had resulted in his orders. As much as he had grumbled at first, he had to agree – he did need protection. Not that he thought he deserved it – but for his daughter's sake. It would upset her very much, if he was found lying in a ditch somewhere. Besides, he did want to see his grandchildren, if at all possible.
"I do hope that your daughter, the Queen, has told you of my part of the scheme concerning King Cailan. I swear, I never meant to go through with this ridiculous idea. The nobles of my land would accept much, but not this. They'd never stand for a Fereldan Emperor. It was all a ruse to call out those who would see your daughter destroyed. The queen is a formidable woman (you raised her well), and she trusted me. It pains me that you could not do the same, but I do understand. Perhaps one day you will tell me what it was that made you hate us so much."
In hindsight it had been rather obvious, and he did feel a little stupid. A dog-lord as Emperor? What had Cailan been thinking?
Loghain shook his head sadly. He had been blinded by his fears, and by his hatred. He had been ready to jump to conclusions and to believe the worst of Celene in a heartbeat.
Yet, he couldn't regret his decision to deny the Chevaliers entry. Even if they had strict orders only to help, there was no guarantee that they would have obeyed. It was more than likely that they would have conquered the war-torn Ferelden and presented Celene with a fait-accompli – and she would have had to accept it, or lose the support of the army and most of the nobles.
"I will meet you in Montsimmard, and, if you are agreeable, we will continue to Val Royeaux from there. Warden Commander Ivo wasn't too keen to have you underfoot, so I offered to take you off his hands (and out of his hair – alas, he doesn't have that much left), and make you the official liaison for the Grey Wardens at my court. I'm afraid that won't keep you busy, but I'm sure you will find something to occupy your time with. Terrorizing my nobles comes to mind."
The first part of the letter had been quite formal, but here she had slipped a little, and he could hear the voice of his Alouette and her particular brand of teasing humour. He didn't much relish the thought of being gawked at in Val Royeaux, but he was being gawked at wherever he went these days. He had killed the Archdemon, after all, poor Angus had been knocked out when he had happened to bash him over the head with his shield in the heat of battle. The young man had refused to let him sacrifice himself, so he had decided to take matters into his own hands.
It hadn't quite worked out as planned – he had woken up very much not dead after stabbing the damn thing.
"I do hope that we can have a new start, you and I, even if this hope is probably foolish. I have thought about you often in the recent years, and I missed you very much. You are probably the only man in Thedas who I would consider my equal – and who would not seek to be anything else, who would not try to gain the upper hand and rule me. Please consider my words on your journey here, while I do remain
Yours,
Celene"
Loghain smiled to himself. He had spent most of his life serving others, being part of things much greater than himself. He had been ready to finally give his life, but a miracle had happened and he was still among the living, feeling out of place and adrift.
Sometime after the last chat with Angus he had decided that he was ready to retire in peace, and let the world go on as it would. And there were worse places to live out the rest of ones days in than a lavish palace belonging to a woman who loved him, and had the biggest country of Thedas at her feet.
He suddenly felt quite peckish as he rode on, daydreaming about cream-cheese on soft white skin.